Sunday, September 20, 2026
September 20th
sorry, folks,
but the world has had
more than enough of our words.
we sing about grace,
while refusing to share it
with any who offend us.
we protest loudly for justice,
but build high walls around
our comfort zones.
sermon after sermon
speaks about compassion
and we drive past the wounded
as we travel home.
we celebrate inclusion with
flags, hymns, prayers, signs
but there is always someone
we won’t let into our circle.
so remember—
grace must serve meals,
mercy must walk our towns,
love must cross boundaries.
otherwise, the gospel becomes
only something we say, while
the broken, the forgotten,
the lonely, the silenced,
wait desperately for someone,
any one (!) to do the Word.
© 2026 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @ThomShuman
Saturday, September 19, 2026
September 19th
so many things around us,
making us afraid to live without them—
boutiques and malls telling us
we need so much more stuff
technology which entices us
with newer, faster devices
politicians who warn us
we have to destroy ‘them’
social media which urges us
to know what everyone is doing
financial folks who warn us
we need more security
influencers who seduce us
with wanting more likes, more followers.
but what if we walked our streets
with Paul’s aching heart and
the compassionate eyes of Jesus—
might we discover, in the midst
of all those well-disguised idols
where the hunger for God
is hiding?
© 2026 Thom M. Shuman
nmo: @ThomShuman
Wednesday, September 16, 2026
September 16th
so, so many people talking—
preachers and pundits,
politicians and podcasters,
neighbors and naysayers,
all absolute in knowing what
we need to hear about God.
but those who help us to see
God? almost an endangered species.
for God is seen
with the silent sufferers
not in all the shouting,
with those sharing mercy
not in those demanding judgment,
with those whose compassion
sees everyone as family
not as threats and enemies.
like Job,
we don’t need all the answers
but simply to open our eyes.
so may our prayer each day be,
‘shush the voices of all who are
rock stars at talking about you,
God among us,
and open our eyes so that
now, we finally see you
in all those places,
all those people,
we never noticed before.
Tuesday, September 15, 2026
September 15th
for to you, O Lord, I lift up
my soul.” Psalm 86:4
you gladden our souls—
with the cold, damp nose
that nuzzles our hand
until we surrender
to paws dancing on the floor,
to a leash stretched taut,
to puffs of breath like clouds
in the early dawn.
with the full moon
tiptoeing through the window
laying a silver path across
the rumpled quilt,
as if heaven forgot
to shut the door.
with that soft weight
of a sleeping child in our arms,
a hand pressed
against our heart,
as we breathe in
the scent of its trust.
gladden us
with such everyday miracles—
a swishing tail,
moonlight blanketing our partner,
the gentle breath of a sleeping child.
unannounced mercies
from your overflowing heart.
© 2026 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @ThomShuman
Monday, September 14, 2026
September 14th
we enjoy playing King of the mountain,
piling up our little hills of certainty
so we can look down at all
who are not like us
we make out lists
from headlines and hashtags,
rumors shared until we think
they must be the truth,
and those names we call
other people whenever
we become angry and scared.
from our high ground,
we can point at all of them—
the problems,
the sinners,
the fools,
the faithless.
and God waits beneath the smoke
of those bridges we burned,
hoping we will notice
our dirty hands
and that we no longer
stand on holy ground.
maybe the first step
toward justice is not
trying to climb higher
but coming down—
kneeling in that dust
where mercy always waits
for us to remember
we are only human.
Sunday, September 13, 2026
September 13th
“The heavens are telling the glory of God,
and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.” Psalm 19:1
once, we would lie
on our backs finding
wonderful shapes in the clouds
scudding across the sky—
now we are so glued
to our screens
we never notice the sky.
once,
we would laugh, shout, and
dance in the rain as it
soaked our clothes, us,
and all of our friends—
now, we grumble every time
the weather folks even
warn about the possibility
of showers.
once,
we would try to catch
as many snowflakes as
we could on our tongues
and then make angels
in the snow with each other—
now, we see only
the inconvenience of having
to shovel or fire up snowblowers.
perhaps the reason
we could care less about creation
is we no longer see it
through the eyes of
wonder and joy, wanting it
to last forever.
© 2026 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @ThomShuman
Saturday, September 12, 2026
September 12th
for every well-known televangelist,
there is that neighbor
who goes around dropping
fresh vegetables on porches
because they grew too many
(intentionally)
for every famous author
who requires fees for
their book signings,
there is the volunteer
sitting in a quiet corner
of the library listening and
encouraging a child to read.
for every influencer who
has a spot on every platform,
there is that fellow using
his no-tech box full of tools
to tighten, fix, and spruce up
mobility devices at senior centers.
for every big name in any field,
there are those no-names
who are remembered because
they never wanted the spotlight,
but only to pass a gift on to
someone else no one knew.

